


Seneca Guns

by ShannonXL



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannonXL/pseuds/ShannonXL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie and Ichabod have a lead on where the Horseman will strike next; a grave in an old Revolutionary burial ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seneca Guns

            After listening to Gloria Estefan's 'Get on Your Feet' for the fifth time in a row, Abbie is seriously considering damaging the sound system in the patrol car. She definitely regrets showing Ichabod how to use her iPod.

            "Stop that," she swats his hand away. The next song on her playlist begins to play.

            "But I found that music to be rather encouraging, didn't you?"

            Abbie groans as she catches yet _another_ red light.

            "I have twelve hours of music stored on that iPod. We are not listening to the same three-minute song over and over again."

            Crane's eyebrows go up, and he picks up the iPod, examining it carefully.

            "How does one store hours inside a machine?"

            Abbie sighs, glaring at the red light ahead of her.

            "We can record people making music now, so that we can listen to it later.  Those recordings are stored in there. It's like a… like a music box. But instead of only being able to play one song, it can play a lot." She taps her fingers against the steering wheel, wondering if music boxes had been invented two-hundred and fifty years ago. She thinks they must have been. Especially since Crane hasn't asked her what a music box is. He's placed the iPod in her cup holder for the moment, and is staring at the cord connecting it to the radio.

            She grimaces when she realizes they're listening to Nelly's 'Ride Wit Me'; she can't remember the last time she'd listened to it, didn't even know she had it. It makes her feel old.

            "And everyone has devices like these? Anyone can make music, whenever they desire?"

            Abbie has to keep herself from slamming her foot down on the gas when the light finally turns green.

            "Um. Sure. They're not cheap, but most people can afford one."

            She can see Crane considering this out of the corner of her eye.

            "So there weren't musicians stationed in that restaurant with the donut holes?"

            She shakes her head.

            "Nope. Just a recording."

            "Then, where are all the musicians?"

            She checks the time on her dashboard, even though they're not late for anything.

            "California, probably?"

            "Where is California?"

            She bites her lip.

            "It's a state on the west coast." She glances at him, can tell he doesn't really believe her. "I'll show you a map when we pull over. Suffice it to say, the thirteen colonies expanded. America's not what it used to be."

            Crane grunts, crossing his arms.

            "And what language does this musician sing in?"

            Abbie sighs.

            "English."

            "Is this the same version of English that other singer spoke? The one we listened to earlier?"

            "Who, Kanye?"

            Crane nods enthusiastically.

            "Yes! That was the gentleman's name! I didn't understand him at all!"

            Abbie smirks.

            "Most white people don't."

            They pull into the mostly abandoned lot. A school bus pulls out just as they pull in, and Abbie thanks God they managed to avoid visiting the cemetery at the same time as a group of bored middle-schoolers. Crane follows her out, staring up at the American flag flying above the entrance. It's chilly, and she's glad she bought him a real jacket (one that doesn't smell like he slept in it for over two-hundred years). He doesn't complain, much, which she thinks is weird. She's a little amazed he's been coping with his inadvertent time travel so well.

            "Come on, let's see if we can find him."

            They step gingerly through the graveyard, though there's no one there to be outraged if they step on a grave (no one alive anyway). There are a few tourists wandering around, mostly on the outskirts. But the time they've gone deeper, the tourists are gone, leaving Abbie alone with Crane.

            "There."

            She points to a marker a few feet away, pulling the picture out of her pocket to confirm. Crane kneels in front of the stone, brushing away a bit of dirt to read the name.

            "Margaret Whitaker Edick."

            Abbie glances around the grave.

            "It doesn't look disturbed at all. You're sure this is the right woman?"

            Crane nods.

            "Katrina spoke quite clearly." He stands. "But perhaps we've beaten the horseman here. I believe a stipulation of his reincarnation is that he is only able to travel at night."

            Abbie shrugs.

            "So, we wait for him to show up?"

            "Unless you have a better idea?"

            "No." she sighs. "I'll go grab food from the car."

            When she returns, Crane is looking over another gravestone. She steps quietly, not wanting to bother him. She hadn't thought about what it might mean to bring him here, he might have _known_ some of the people buried here. It's something like the biggest Revolutionary War burial site in the country. She probably could have thought of that before bringing a Revolutionary War veteran for a visit.

            "Hey. Crane. You okay?"

            He nods, staring at one of the markers.

            She hands him a bottle of juice.

            "I didn't startle you, did I?"

            He smiles at her.

            "I heard your footfalls loud and clear." He struggles with the bottle cap for a second, before he readjusts his grip and opens it. He drinks it quickly, Abbie's already noticed that he has a pretty major sweet tooth.

            "Abbie, what is a dragon fruit?"

            She shrugs.

            "I think we can get it at the Asian supermarket, if you want to see one."

            "There are markets just for Asian cuisine?"

            "Yup. Usually run by Asian people. We're supposedly a nation of immigrants."

            Crane nods.

            "That's good. I'm glad it's still true."

            It takes Abbie a second before she realizes he means _he's_ the immigrant. She snickers, because her younger, more rebellious self would have killed to hear a Revolutionary hero admit that. She glances at the headstone in front of them.The dates match up.

            "You didn't… um, know her, did you?"

            Crane shakes his head.

            "No. But I did make the acquaintance of the gentleman interred over there."

            Abbie winces.

            "Sorry."

            "Don't be. He was rather forward with some of the nurses. He was, as you might say, a huge dickhead."

            Abbie chokes on a laugh.

            "That's… still. It must be weird, being here."

            "No at all. I'm glad to see my brothers have been laid to rest so reverently. I should have paid my respects sooner." He glances at her bag. "I don't suppose you have any donut holes in there?"

            She hands him the bag.

            "Have at 'em."

            He reaches inside, snagging one of the jelly-filled ones. They sit down in front of the stone, eating quietly.

            "So, you wanna look at a map?"

            Crane shrugs.

            "Maybe in a bit. We do have some time before nightfall."

            Abbie nods, fidgeting a little. Crane glances at her.

            "Are you unwell?"

            "Nah. Just not used to waiting around."

            "I think it's rather nice here. The weather is pleasant. You should enjoy this brief respite."

            She shrugs.

            "I guess."

            "The world is… very noisy, now. It's not just the music. It's the horns. And the lights, buzzing like insects. The um… the noise your mode of transportation produces."

            "It's the engine."

            "Engine." Crane nods. "I had expected more people. Larger structures. That is what we intended, protecting the colonies so that they might flourish and expand. But the sounds… it's not bad. It's just not what I would have imagined."

            Abbie nods. They sit in silence for a moment.

            "So… California?"

            She smiles, and pulls up a map of the United States on her phone.

 


End file.
